


Shades of Gray

by JenTheSweetie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenTheSweetie/pseuds/JenTheSweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim faces the inevitable horror of aging in the form of his very first gray hair. McCoy offers emotional support, verbal ass-kickings and manual assistance in removing a pair of too-tight pants, and they both learn a little something about what it really means to grow up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my beta, and a big thank you and shoutout to the wonderful [Twizzletwit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Twizzletwit/pseuds/Twizzletwit) for all of the chatting and all of the support!

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.226  
Today's experiment on the effects of tetrazepam on some of the newer neural paralyzers was interrupted when the illustrious captain of the USS Enterprise came in with what he believed to be a medical condition but was in fact just a tantrum._

"Bones, I need to see you in your office," Jim announced as he burst into sickbay.

McCoy didn't bother to look up from the pipette he was using to transfer hydrogen chloride into a beaker. "Busy. If it's not a medical emergency, come back later."

"It _is_ a medical emergency," Jim said. McCoy had a feeling that this was not, in the strictest sense of the word, true, but he had never really learned to tell Jim _no_ , so he sighed and put down his pipette. 

"What is it?"

"It's _private_ ," Jim said, glancing around sickbay, apparently not wanting to be overheard. McCoy raised his eyebrows. 

"All right, get in my office, just let me put this away," he said, placing the beaker back in a rack and following Jim into his private office. As the doors slid shut behind him, he said, "But I swear, Jim, if you've picked something up down on some alien planet again, I am not falsifying any more logs about how you got yourself a - "

"I - no, no, nothing like that," Jim said. "And oh my god, that was _one time_ and it was like two years ago, can you please let it go?"

"I'll let it go when it stops being funny, so, never," McCoy said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is it this time, then?"

"Okay, so I was doing my hair this morning - " Jim started.

"Lord help me," McCoy said, rolling his eyes.

" - and I noticed _this_." Jim leaned forward so the side of his head was right under McCoy's nose.

"What am I looking at?" McCoy said, genuinely mystified as the scent of Jim's shampoo wafted up into his face.

"This - this _thing_ ," Jim said, leaning even closer, so close that he ran into McCoy's chin. "On my _head_."

"What thing?" For the first time in the whole conversation, McCoy was vaguely concerned. "You feeling all right?"

"It's gray! It's a gray hair!" Jim yelped.

"You've got to be kidding me," McCoy said. "You called me in here for a goddamn _gray hair_?"

"Why is this happening? Is there something wrong with me?" Jim asked, flopping down in the chair across from McCoy desk. McCoy leaned against it, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"There's a lot wrong with you, kid," he said. "But this is just getting old."

"Old? I'm not old," Jim huffed.

"You're 30," McCoy said. "That's not young. It's normal to get a few gray hairs by this age. Hell, I had quite a few by the time I was 30. Course, I'd been dealing with you for a couple of years by then, so I'm surprised I didn't have a whole head full of 'em."

"You have gray hairs?" Jim asked, stunned. 

"Sure," McCoy said, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "A few." Jim stood up and launched himself at McCoy's head. "Jim, what the - " McCoy muttered, as Jim grabbed him by the chin and held him still. 

"It works on you," Jim pronounced after a moment, releasing McCoy's head and crossing his arms. "It looks distinguished."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "It is what it is. If it worries you so much, you could color your hair. Plenty of people do. I don't bother, I ain't got anybody to impress, anyway."

"I can't believe I'm old," Jim said faintly. 

"You're not old," McCoy said. "If you're old, I'm ancient."

"I won't argue with you on that one," Jim said, and ducked as McCoy reached out to swat him on the back of the head.

"Get out of my sickbay, Jim," McCoy said. "The adults have work to do."

-

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.231  
Routine maintenance on the transporters has turned up some problems - not that I'm surprised, those things are a death trap if I've ever seen one - and has delayed an exploratory mission to uninhabited M-class planet Delta Iota III. Most of the crew is using the unexpected free time to catch up on work or sleep, but a few people are pursuing some unnecessarily strenuous extracurricular activities._

McCoy had just sat down for dinner in the officer's mess when the doors slid open and Jim walked - no, shuffled - inside. He looked at the food lined up along the wall, sighed, and then walked stiffly over to McCoy's table and sat down across from him.

"You're not gonna eat this," he said, picking up a roll from McCoy's tray.

"Yeah, I am," McCoy said, snatching it back. "What the hell's your problem?"

"Nothing," Jim said, reaching for McCoy's pudding cup and wincing.

"Get your own pudding," McCoy said, pulling his tray closer so it was out of Jim's reach. Jim looked back at the food across the room wistfully. "What's wrong with you?"

"Uh," Jim said. "I may have gone a little overboard fencing with Sulu this afternoon. I think I threw my back out."

"Jesus," McCoy said, putting down his fork and pulling his tricorder out of the holster around his waist. "You moron. What'd you do that for?"

"I hadn't fenced in a while, so I thought I might try to pick it up," Jim said casually. "You know, get back into shape."

"You're in fine shape, Jim," McCoy said, a bit distracted as he punched readings into the tricorder to try to assess whether or not Jim had a slipped disk in his back. "Great shape, really. But you can't just throw yourself into intensive training for a sport you've never done, you're too old for that."

"I'm not too - " Jim said loudly, and McCoy looked up at him, startled. "I'm not too old," Jim started again, more quietly. "Sulu's just really good."

"Whatever you say," McCoy said, looking back at his tricorder readings. "You're fine, you just have a muscle spasm. Come with me to sickbay and I'll give you something for the pain. Just take it easy for a few days. But don't pull any more stunts like this."

"Great," Jim said, looking relieved. "But uh - do you think you could bring it here? I'm not totally sure I can get up."

-

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.251  
Several visiting dignitaries from nearby Centra Lambda IV are stopping by the Enterprise this evening for a formal reception. The event has given the senior staff our first opportunity to wear the newest iteration of Starfleet's dress uniforms, with only minor difficulties._

"Dr. McCoy, have you seen the captain?" Spock asked, coming to stand next to McCoy just outside shuttle bay 1. "The representatives from Centra Lambda IV will be here at any moment."

"Not since this morning," McCoy said, pulling down on the hem of his dress uniform. "These things are mighty stiff, aren't they?"

"I hadn't noticed," Spock said.

"Course you haven't," McCoy murmured. 

"If he does not arrive soon - " Spock began, furrowing his brow.

"He'll be here," McCoy said. As if on cue, the doors slid open and Jim emerged into the holding area outside the shuttle bay. 

"I'm here," Jim said, breathing hard as if he'd run all the way.

"Uh, Jim," McCoy said, blinking once. On Spock's other side, Uhura covered her mouth with her hand, and behind them, Chekov let out a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

"The Centra Lambdans have arrived," Spock said, apparently unaware that the rest of the assembled crew was struggling to hold back laughter, and Jim stepped into line just as the shuttle bay doors opened to reveal the dignitaries. Jim and Spock made their introductions, then led the visitors out of the shuttle bay for a tour.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Sulu let out a burst of laughed he'd clearly been holding in, and Uhura wiped away tears from her eyes while Chekov shook his head and chuckled. 

"Unbelievable," McCoy muttered. 

"Is that what they're supposed to look like?" Scotty asked, looking puzzled and glancing down at his own pants.

"Absolutely not," McCoy said.

-

To call Jim's pants "tight" was, McCoy decided during the reception, a kind and generous understatement. While every other member of the senior staff had pants that were loose-fitting and fairly nondescript, Jim's looked like they'd been shrunk down to fit a small child and left nothing - _nothing_ , McCoy thought wearily, doing his damnedest to avoid looking - to the imagination. 

When Jim finally extracted himself from conversation with the Centra Lambdan ambassador, McCoy swooped. "What the hell is the matter with your pants?" he hissed. "You look like an idiot."

"They're squeezing, Bones," Jim said, the stiff perma-smile on his face looking a bit manic. "They're squeezing my - "

"Shut up," McCoy interrupted, deciding he _really_ did not need to hear the end of that sentence. "It's your own damn fault. What happened to them?"

"The standard issue ones in my closet were so - so - _unflattering_ ," Jim said. "They looked like they belonged on Admiral Archer. So I asked the replicator for a pair a few sizes smaller, just to see if they looked better."

"A few _sizes_ smaller?" McCoy asked. "Jim, these look like they belong on a teenage girl."

"Yeah, it didn't go as well as I thought it would," Jim said, shifting his stance uncomfortably. 

"You look like a performer at some kind of underground nightclub," McCoy said. “Do you plan to dance for the Centra Lambdans tonight?”

"Okay, thanks, that's helpful," Jim said dryly, nodding to one of the dignitaries as he passed them on the way to the buffet.

"Why didn't you just take them off and put the other pair back on?" McCoy asked.

"Well," Jim said, wincing. "That's the thing. I was already running a little late, and then, they, uh - they were sort of stuck."

"Stuck?" McCoy asked. "What do you mean, _stuck_?"

"What do you think I mean? I mean I can't get them off!" Jim hissed. "Bones, they're cutting off circulation to my legs. You have to help me."

"Help you?" McCoy echoed. "How, exactly, can I _help you take your pants off, Captain_?"

"First of all, keep your voice down, and second of all, you can cut them off," Jim said.

"Cut them off yourself!" McCoy said.

"I'm afraid to cut myself," Jim said. "They feel like they're painted on. I'm losing feeling, you know, _down there_ \- "

"You are an idiot," McCoy interrupted, grabbing Jim's elbow and pulling him toward the door. "We're going to sickbay, I'll cut them off with a laser scalpel."

"Oh thank God," Jim said, wincing with every step. When they arrived in sickbay - which was, luckily, deserted - McCoy left Jim leaning against a biobed and pulled a laser scalpel from a drawer.

"Now, don't move," McCoy said, frowning down at the pants and wondering exactly where he could cut to expose Jim as little as possible. He turned the scalpel on and began to cut from Jim's hip down, careful to avoid nicking his skin. "Good lord, Jim, are you not wearing underwear?"

"Er," Jim said, having the gall to look completely unabashed. "No."

McCoy just shook his head and continued to cut down the side, revealing Jim's hip and top of his thigh. He got down on his knees to continue to cut and had almost released Jim all the way to his right knee when the doors to sickbay slid open and Spock stepped inside.

"It's not what it looks like," Jim said, grinning at Spock.

"I am not entirely sure _what_ it looks like," Spock said.

"I'm going to kill you," McCoy said, reaching the bottom of the pants and shaking his head as Jim peeled them off entirely. 

"I will make your apologies to the Centra Lambdans, Captain," Spock said, raising one eyebrow.

"Would you? Thanks," Jim said, leaning back against the biobed and breathing in deeply. "I hate dress uniforms."

-

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.259.  
Captain Kirk, several of my medical staff and I are currently on Starbase 11 for a conference on the ethical ramifications of the spread of Federation medical technology across non-Federation territories. Much to the captain's delight, the conference includes a fairly light schedule with ample time for socialization._

"There. In the yellow, her friend's in blue. You see them?"

McCoy glanced quickly over his shoulder at the women - or, on second glance, _girls_ \- that Jim was talking about. 

"Christ, Jim, I'm old enough to be their father," he muttered, turning back to Jim and feeling his cheeks flush.

"Only just," Jim said, his eyes on the yellow-clad woman across the bar. McCoy tried not to think too hard about what Jim was imagining. "They're Academy. They must be here for their off-world term. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to meet a few Federation heroes, living the reality of deep space exploration." He tossed his head and gave McCoy a sultry half-smile. 

"Good lord," McCoy said. "Does that really work for you?"

"Usually," Jim said, grinning. "Let's go introduce ourselves."

"No," McCoy said flatly, but Jim ignored him, grabbed his arm, and began pulling him toward the table across the room. "Jim, I don't - they're barely _legal_ \- "

"What's the big deal?" Jim said. "We used to do this all the time at the Academy."

"Yeah, and I was too old for Academy girls back then," McCoy snapped as they weaved through the crowd. "Now even _you're_ too old, and a senior officer to boot, this has got to be against some kind of regulation, if you just give me a minute I'm sure I can look it up - "

"Shut up," Jim hissed, releasing McCoy's elbow and flashing his widest grin at the two girls. They paused in their furiously whispered conversation and looked up at him. The one in yellow's mouth dropped open; she clearly recognized Jim, which, McCoy realized now, was exactly what Jim had been hoping for.

"Hi there," Jim said. "Are these seats taken?"

"No," the one in yellow said quickly, smiling in a way that could only be described as flirtatious. McCoy frowned and wondered what her mother would think if she could see her now.

"Great," Jim said, sitting down. He looked up at McCoy and gestured to the other open seat. "Doctor?" 

McCoy took a deep breath and considered his options. None of them were any good. With a defeated sigh, he sat down next to Jim.

"There we go," Jim said smoothly. "I'm Jim, and this is Bones."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy," McCoy said gruffly.

"I'm Lauren," the yellow-clad girl said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder in what McCoy could not help but notice was an almost perfect imitation of Jim.

"Cadet J'neth, sir," the girl in blue said stiffly. 

"Oh, none of that here," Jim said, waving a hand at J'neth. "We're not at the Academy, we're at a bar. Please, call me Jim."

"Yes, sir," J'neth said quietly, in a fit of disobedience that McCoy appreciated.

"So what are you two studying?" Jim asked.

"J'neth is in Astrophysics, and I'm Command track, focusing in tactical," Lauren said.

"Good choice," Jim said, and winked. McCoy concentrated hard on not rolling his eyes. "Can I buy you both a drink?"

"If you're old enough, that is," McCoy said, smirking, and Jim shot him a look. Lauren giggled.

"We're second years, Dr. McCoy, this isn't our first rodeo," Lauren said, looking a bit too smug for someone who couldn't be older than 20. "Captain - I mean, _Jim_ ," Lauren continued breathlessly. "It's so great to get a chance to meet you. This is a little embarrassing, but I actually wrote a paper about you in high school."

"Did you?" Jim said, his smile starting to look a little strained. 

"Well, not just about you," Lauren amended. "It was mostly about recent space-time continuum events, but a major focus of it was the Narada incident."

"How fascinating," McCoy said. "And how old were you when you wrote this paper? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"Bones," Jim said sharply. "Lauren, why don't you come with me to the bar to buy some drinks, and you can tell me all about your paper? Maybe I'll even be able to fill in some of the blanks." He grinned again, and Lauren jumped out of her seat so fast that you'd think she'd been burned.

"That sounds great," she said brightly. McCoy and J'neth watched as Jim and Lauren crossed the room to the bar, and sat in uncomfortable silence as Lauren put her hand on Jim's arm and threw her head back, laughing.

"She's _really_ into older men," J'neth said said, rolling her eyes. McCoy smothered a laugh, which J'neth apparently misinterpreted. "Uh, I'm not," she said quickly.

"Oh, me neither," McCoy assured her quickly, and felt his cheeks turn red. "I mean - I'm not into - I didn't come over here to try, you know, do _that_. I just came with him. Over here."

"Okay," J'neth said slowly. "Right." 

"So, I'm just going to go," McCoy said. "This has been extremely awkward. Good luck with the rest of your time at the Academy, Cadet."

"Wait," J'neth said, and McCoy's stomach swooped; he would not be seduced by a nineteen-year-old cadet, he would not, _he would not_. "Before you go - could I ask you something?"

"Sure," McCoy said, gritting his teeth.

"I'm working on this report on mixed-species triage for my Advanced Xenobiology class, and I feel like I'm missing something pretty key," J'neth said. "I'm just not sure how you know, from a preliminary set of tricorder readings, which of the two species dominates their internal organs."

"Well," McCoy said, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, "You don't always know right away. There aren't as many hard and fast rules as there should be, because sometimes its based on the specific genetic markup of the sub-species you're dealing with. It's sort of a learn-by-experience thing, but there is Harman's Order of Internal Dominance for while you're still learning."

"Harman's Order of - wait, hold on a sec," J'neth said, reaching under the table and pulling out a padd. "See, I feel like we didn't spend enough time on that, but I _thought_ it was important." She frowned at the padd and scrolled through her paper. "Would you mind taking a look at this paragraph here to see if I've really explained it right?" She held out the padd to McCoy, looking hopeful.

McCoy bit back his first reply - _I'm a doctor, damn it, not a Xenobiology tutor_ \- and said instead, "Sure, it seems like I've got some time. Let's take a look."

-

_Chief Medical Officer's personal log  
Jim gets laid, and I spend the evening helping a teenager with a term paper. Un-fucking-believable._

\- 

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.288  
Since we're ahead of schedule on the way to check up on a terraforming mission in sector 220, the captain has ordered two days of shore leave on Risa for the whole crew. In this officer's experience, shore leave is mostly an excuse for members of the crew to get themselves injured outside of the line of duty and create more work for the medical staff upon their return to the Enterprise. The captain has deemed this not a good enough reason to avoid shore leave altogether._

"I want to go scuba diving," Jim said.

"No," McCoy said, tossing his bag down next to the large, fluffy-looking bed in his hotel room.

"Okay, let's climb Galartha," Jim said, following McCoy into his room.

"Absolutely not. Do you know how dangerous that thing is?" 

"Let's go to that nightclub we passed on the way in. I heard they serve this absinthe there that causes you to hallucinate that you're - "

"No, and that sounds illegal," McCoy interrupted before Jim could go any further.

"Don't you want to do _anything_ fun?" Jim whined.

"Yes, I do," McCoy said, flopping down onto the bed. It was even more comfortable than it looked. "I want to sleep. I want to lay on the beach. I want to sleep while laying on the beach. That is the kind of fun I want to have."

"That's not fun, that's boring," Jim said. 

"I could use some boring," McCoy said. "There's too much not-boring in my life, thanks to you."

"I bet Sulu would do something fun with me," Jim said petulantly. 

"Last I saw him, Sulu was trying to get Chekov to pick up a horga'hn, god help us all," McCoy muttered, closing his eyes against the image. 

"Awesome," Jim said. "I have never wanted to interrupt anything less in my life. I'll find Scotty, then. Do you think he'd go hover-cycling?"

"Hover-cycling?" McCoy said, sitting up. "Really? You're 30 years old, Jim."

"So? I had an old-fashioned two-wheeler motorcycle in Iowa," Jim said. "I miss that thing. I gave it to some guy before I got on the shuttle to the Academy. Such a mistake."

"Right, because giving up a machine that reckless teenagers use to freak out their parents was definitely a bad move," McCoy grumbled. "Idiot. I've never even heard you talk about having a motorcycle before."

"Yeah, I got it third-hand from this guy who lived in town and fixed it up myself. She was a beauty - a little unreliable, but she got the job done." Jim was looking a little wistful, and McCoy snorted.

"I'm surprised you even survived long enough to make it to the Academy, you damn fool, do you know how dangerous those things are?" 

"Yeah, I've heard," Jim said dryly. "Well, I'm going to go look for Scotty, and then I'm going to rent a hover-cycle. If you ever stop being extremely boring, maybe I'll see you later."

"Maybe," McCoy muttered, laying back down. "Don't forget to wear a helmet."

"Yeah, sure," Jim said, chuckling and heading for the door.

"Because that'd be a stupid way to die, you know," McCoy called. "The heroic Jim Kirk, splattered across a Risan highway because he didn't want to mess up his hair."

"Whatever you say, Bones," Jim said, his voice further away.

"I'm not kidding, Jim," McCoy said. "Jim? Jim!"

The doors slid shut, and McCoy rolled his eyes and hoped for the best. 

-

_Chief Medical Officer's Log, stardate 2263.289  
Distributed two hundred and fifty rehydration hyposprays to crew hotel rooms this evening ahead of a planned mixer at nightclub. The end of shore leave cannot come soon enough._

"Drink up!" Jim said, setting a bright yellow concoction down in front of McCoy.

"What is it?" McCoy asked suspiciously. "This is only my third drink, I'll notice if you - "

"It's a Samarian Sunset, and no, before you ask, I didn't add anything _extra_ to it," Jim said. "That would be highly unprofessional."

"But not out of character," McCoy muttered, taking a small sip of the drink. "This is disgusting."

"Really? They're so popular," Jim said, taking a sip of his own and grimacing. "Strong." He tilted his head back and downed the whole thing in one go. "At least this way I only taste it once!" he said triumphantly, swallowing hard.

"Couldn't we just have whiskey like normal?" McCoy said, taking another gulp and watching as the crowd on the dance floor shrieked as a some kind of excruciatingly loud Trillian-synth-pop song came on. "What is this music? Can you even really call it that? It's terrible."

"This song is a huge hit right now," Jim said vaguely. 

"I hate it," McCoy said.

"You're just old," Jim said.

"You're telling me you like this? I feel like my ears are bleeding."

"It's okay," Jim said non-committally. "It's _popular_."

"Doesn't mean it's any good," McCoy said, finishing his Samarian Sunset. "Just like this drink. Just like this _club_. Jim, why are we here?"

"Crew mixer," Jim said, gesturing at the dance floor, where most of the under-30 members of the Enterprise crew were currently gyrating in an extremely suggestive manner.

"Yeah, but you made your appearance, you had a drink with them, this is when senior staff are supposed to make themselves scarce," McCoy said. "Look, even Sulu and Scotty left twenty minutes ago, and Spock didn't show up at all."

"They're boring," Jim said. 

"They're _normal_ ," McCoy said. "This place is horrendous. Can we please go? There was a nice, quiet place a few blocks further down the road, they had a selection of whiskeys from across the quadrant according to a sign out front."

"I used to like this kind of thing," Jim said, watching the crowd and nodding his head out of time with the beat. McCoy had the feeling Jim hadn't even heard his desperate plea for whiskey. "I used to love this kind of place. What happened to me, Bones? When did I get so - so - so out of the game?" 

Two ensigns chose that moment to separate from the crowd in a tangle of limbs and all-too-public tongues and crash right into the wall next to Jim's head.

"Careful there, Ensign," Jim said politely. 

The woman closest to Jim blushed deep red and stammered, "Thank you, sir," and her partner giggled. They clutched each other's hands and stumbled toward the door. 

"Jim," McCoy said once the couple had disappeared through the doors and out into the street, and hopefully off to a more private locale, "What do you mean, out of the game? You're a captain, you can't act like you're a cadet anymore. What's so bad about that?"

"I'm _old_ ," Jim said, looking so horrified by the thought that McCoy had to purse his lips to stop from laughing. "How did that happen?"

"Is this all about that gray hair? You're a little young for a mid-life crisis, you know," McCoy said.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know about that. You actually expect me to live past 60? This probably _is_ mid-life for me."

"Don't say shit like that," McCoy snapped. "Come on, you asshole. Of course I expect you to live past 60. I brought you back from the dead once, I didn't do it so you could get yourself killed again. Whether you like it or not, you're gonna grow a head full of gray hairs and get promoted to Admiral and sit in a chair at Command for decades and order people around all day and live to a hundred and ten at least."

"I don't know about that," Jim said quietly, so quietly that McCoy could barely hear him over the thumping of the song playing in the club. "I don't know that I want to be some grumpy old admiral, contributing to the bullshit bureaucracy and stuck planetside for the rest of my life. And by the time they take the Enterprise away from me, I'll be too - well, I won't have my ship or my crew and I won't even have anyone to grow old _with_. I don't think I could live like that."

"Well, you're gonna have to learn to live with it, because I'm gonna be real pissed at you if you die young," McCoy said matter-of-factly. Jim flashed him a half smile.

"I know you are," he said, glancing toward the crowd. "Do you want to dance?"

McCoy raised his eyebrows as the music got even louder. "Not really."

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Jim said. McCoy watched him, torn, too many thoughts bubbling up in his throat that he didn't want to say, so he just swallowed them down and stood up, too quickly. 

"I think I'm gonna head out," he said. "You coming?"

"I think I'll stay a little longer," Jim said. "Keep an eye on them, make sure everybody gets back to the hotel okay. Night, Bones."

"Night, Jim," McCoy said, and slipped out of the club and into the night.

-

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 2263.290  
The crew is returning to the ship slowly but surely via scheduled beam-outs. Everyone's been on time to their beam-out point so far except Captain Kirk and Chief Engineer Scott, who apparently got up for an early-morning hike and haven't been heard from since. Commander Spock is planning to wait one hour before simply beaming them out from wherever they are._

_Chief Medical Officer's log, personal  
I swear to god, Jim, if you've done something stupid down there, I'll throttle you with my bare hands._

" _Commander Spock to sickbay. Dr. McCoy, do you read me?_ "

"I'm here, Spock," McCoy said, flipping on the comm at his desk. 

" _We have located the captain and Commander Scott. It appears that the captain has been injured_ ," Spock said. " _They're beaming up now, so expect him to be moved to sickbay right away._ "

"Of course he's been injured," McCoy said, torn between relief and fury. "If anybody could get hurt on a pleasure planet it's him - anything else, Spock?"

"That is all, Doctor," Spock said. "We'll be leaving orbit in approximately two hours."

The doors to sickbay whooshed open, and Scotty and a security officer rushed in, carrying Jim between them. "On the bed," McCoy barked, jumping into action and noting first and foremost that Jim's eyes were open and he looked awake, if very pale. "What the hell happened?" 

"We were - ah - we were base jumping," Scotty said. Jim cringed as they set him down on the biobed.

"You were _what_?" McCoy snapped, running his tricorder up and down Jim's body. "Are you out of your goddamn minds?"

"It's all very safe, Doctor," Scotty argued. McCoy turned to him, glaring furiously, and he continued, "But the captain here may have pulled his rip cord just the _slightest_ bit too late."

"Apparently more than a little too late - he completely shattered his tibia," McCoy said, frowning down at his tricorder readings. 

"Sounds about right," Jim gasped. 

"Oh, you can talk, can you?" McCoy snapped, choosing, as usual, to display his concern in the form of anger. "Well, shut up, I'll deal with you later. I'm putting you under, we'll see you in a couple hours. Nurse, get me 20 ccs of terakine and 10 ccs of anesthizine." 

As McCoy presed the hypospray up against Jim's neck, Jim grinned hazily through the potent mix of painkiller and anesthetic, said, "But still - it was _totally awesome_ ," and immediately passed out.

"If you weren't already unconscious I would punch you," McCoy said, almost fondly.

-

_Chief Medical Officer's log, supplemental  
The captain's recreationally-sustained injury will keep him off duty for a few days and on modified duty for a week, but he'll face no lasting medical impact. He's already woken from surgery and is eager to get out of sickbay, much to the chagrin of the medical staff, including this officer._

"I leave for fifteen minutes and come back to hear you're terrorizing my nurses," McCoy said as the doors to the private room in the back of sickbay whooshed shut behind him. 

"Not terrorizing," Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just trying to get them to release me to my quarters."

"Even though they were explicitly ordered, by _me_ , not to do so under any circumstances," McCoy snapped. "I'm in charge here, not you, you hear me? And you're in bed another 12 hours while I make sure sure your bone is healing, and you won't get up a second sooner or so help me god, I'll have you thrown in the brig."

"You can't throw me in the brig," Jim said.

"Watch me," McCoy hissed, glaring down at him. "Now. I interrogated Scotty, and he tells me that he can't figure out why you ignored him when he told you to pull your rip cord. Care to enlighten me?"

Jim shrugged. "Just wanted another few seconds of freefall, and I miscalculated. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you could have gotten yourself _killed_ ," McCoy said.

"Don't be melodramatic, Bones," Jim said. "I just got a little banged up. It's not like I didn't pull my cord at all. It was an _accident_. I don't need a lecture." He glared at a point on the wall somewhere to the left of McCoy's head.

"You know better than to take risks like that," McCoy said. He sighed heavily and sat on the edge of Jim's bed. "And that's why I'm not going to lecture you. You're a goddamn starship captain and you deserve to be treated as such."

Jim tilted his head and frowned up at him suspiciously. "Thanks?"

"But sometimes you are so damn _dense_ that I just want to shake some sense into you."

"Here it comes," Jim said, snorting.

"Jim," McCoy said. "Look. You said last night - you said you don't have anybody to get old with. But here's the thing. I'm standing right here, and you just keep looking right through me." He ran his hands through his hair: it was now or never. "And that's fine. If you don't - if you don't see it going that way with us, that's more than fine, we'll go right on the way we are, but - well, the way I see it, I'm stuck getting old with you whether you like it or not. I don't see any way out of it for me. So I'll be here either way, you asshole, getting old and fixing you up and yelling at you for being a goddamn moron every step of the way." He let out a deep breath. "And that's all I'm gonna say."

Jim stared up at him, face unreadable. "But you don't want all of this. You want the house and the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids in the backyard, Bones. I don't ever want any of it, but I know you do."

"Kid, if I really wanted that, I'd've stayed in Georgia," McCoy said, shaking his head. "I signed up for this crazy ride, and I'm in it for the long haul. If you want me to be, I'll be here."

"How come you never said anything?" Jim asked, his brow furrowed. 

McCoy shrugged. "I didn't think you needed any big romantic declarations. Isn't the way I follow you around the galaxy like a goddamn puppy dog enough of a clue?"

"I guess I am pretty dense," Jim said, laughing and shaking his head. "I've been - I mean, if you - if you wanted to, and I didn't think you - I've been kind of an asshole, haven't I?"

"I'm not asking you for anything," McCoy said. He reached out, tentatively, and squeezed Jim's shoulder. "I just wanted you to know. You aren't gonna get old alone, any way you slice it. But nothing here has to change." He released Jim's shoulder and stood up. "All right, that's enough of that. I need to do a report on all the injuries this damn fool crew picked up on shore leave, but I'll bring you your dinner in a while, all right? And I don't want to hear any complaints out of you."

"Yes, sir," Jim said, his lips twisting into a half-smile. McCoy headed for the door, blood buzzing through his veins in the aftermath of everything he'd just said. "Hey, Bones?"

"Yeah?" McCoy asked, turning back to face him from the door.

"What if I _want_ something here to change?" Jim said slowly.

McCoy swallowed hard. "Then we can figure that out, too."

"All right," Jim said. 

"All right?" McCoy asked.

"Sounds good, old man," Jim said, grinning.

"I ain't old," McCoy snapped. 

"Old's not so bad," Jim said.

"No," McCoy said. "I guess it's not."

_Chief Medical Officer's log, stardate 223.291  
The captain has been released early from sickbay on the condition that he take it easy for a few days while his tibia continues to heal. The exact definition of 'taking it easy' is, of course, at his chief medical officer's discretion, but with close, personal attention, I'm sure he'll be back on his feet in no time._

_\- Fin -_


End file.
